


Rock Me

by seven (sevenpoints)



Series: (I love you) I'm not gonna crack [7]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Do you remember summer ‘09? Wanna go back there every night. Just can’t lie, it was the best time of my life.</i> </p><p>(Which is to say that One Direction unintentionally wrote a Trek fandom anthem, I had a resurgence of fandom feels, and this happened.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Me

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Even if you don’t like One Direction, just listen to the song. [TRUST ME ON THIS](http://sevenpoints.tumblr.com/post/35207616959)

Karl had looked good.

Karl had looked better than Anton had ever seen him, to be honest. He'd been doing mostly action roles since Star Trek and was probably in the best shape of his life. Anton had hoped that the years since 2009 were long enough to get over the man, but he'd taken one look at him and felt the same tingle through all his bones, remembering Karl’s hands on him, his body under him, over him, surrounding him. Making him feel like--making him _feel_.

Enough, damn it.

He checked his reflection again. Hair: careless, which worked for him. Skin: clear now, no pimples or other problems for make up to deal with. Clothes: good, henley, vest, skinny jeans, brogues, god, he was so fucking sick of himself.

He gave himself one last, long, critical look. He was tired and pissed off and it showed. Going out was probably a terrible idea, but staying in, and thinking, would be worse.

Keys, cash, jacket, out.

The club wasn't crowded when he got there, which meant he was early, which sucked, but it also meant he didn't have to wait to get a drink.

He sipped with his back to the bar so he could survey the crowd, nonchalance unforced because he honestly didn't give a fuck. It was the usual bunch of pretty people trying to be the best-looking person on the floor, all looking for a little reassurance of their own attractiveness. Easy pickings. Too easy.

He turned to get another drink, only to find a fresh whiskey sour already waiting for him. A raised eyebrow was met by a very interesting smirk from the bartender, and Anton realized he'd overlooked another possibility.

Bartenders were impossible to pick up; everyone knew that, and this one was so unapproachably hot he was probably an idiot for considering it. Long, dark hair. Really excellent cleavage. A general air of "in your dreams, chump."

What the hell.

A few tequila shots later he was in the bathroom with his hand down the back of her jeans and her tongue in his mouth. She squirmed closer when his fingers grazed her ass on their way to her cunt, and for a second he considered turning her around and rimming her right there in the stall. Unfortunately, she only had ten minutes for this break, and he wanted to taste pussy, smell pussy, get all his senses swamped in _woman_ before he sent her back to work and left to find another club, and another girl.

He hadn't fucked another guy since Karl, though.

Probably past time he took care of that.

\---

Seeing the rest of the cast was fucking weird.

Anton was starting to see the wisdom of not fucking your co-stars, because Chris and Zach were definitely struggling. They'd had two years of being joined at the dick followed by years of barely seeing each other at all and it showed. Chris was weird and withdrawn and Zach was dramatically Out and Well-Adjusted and So Excited to Shave His Eyebrows Again and Anton wanted a drink, or a mountain of cocaine, because he couldn't deal with this many fake smiles from people he respected.

Getting everyone out for drinks was just a marathon, but at least Zoe was smart enough to put them in a cantina that overlooked the beach; staring off into the waves was a good cover when they had nothing to say. Simon was a relief, as was John, and Anton congratulated himself for not fucking them. He actually wound up hogging John for most of the night, but he figured that was his right; Sulu and Chekov were bros, so it made sense that he and John would want to catch up.

Karl was off yukking it up with Zach.

Karl could go fuck himself.

\---

Several awkward rounds later, Anton was having a harder time keeping track of everyone.

Chris had stolen John, the bastard, so they could talk about the upcoming election and whether or not John’s buddy Kal would deserve any credit if Obama won. Anton was considering rescuing Zach and Zoe, who were desperately trying to renew their rapport and mostly just exchanging painfully politically correct catchphrases, but suddenly his entire field of vision was full of Karl’s chest under his jacket and sloppy shirt.

"Hey."

"Hey."

It was like a toast. They drank.

And because Anton was drunk, and because Karl was Karl and he’d never been able to help himself, he added, “This sucks.”

Karl hummed in agreement.

“You suck too.”

Karl hummed again.

The silence that followed was the most comfortable moment Anton had experienced that night, so naturally Karl ruined it. “You’ve been doing a lot of voice acting.”

If he had to make small talk with Karl of all people he was going to slit his wrists. “Yeah, it’s great work since my hair line’s already receding and I’ve given up hope of growing into my bone structure. Maybe I’ll do radio next.”

“Jesus, Anton.” The stricken look on Karl’s face was pretty gratifying. “Look, is this who you’re going to be from now on? Are you even going to pretend to be professional about this?”

Anton snorted. “Faking it worked pretty well the first time around,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Karl snapped. “You never faked a second of it.”

That kicked Anton right back to those first horrible months after the promo tour ended, when the weather was turning and everyone was leaving and Anton threw himself into his own projects because when he was acting he wasn’t staring at his phone, mind turning the clock forward to New Zealand time.

“No, I really didn’t,” he muttered. “And I thought you didn’t either.” That was pathetic. Just as well; he was tired of being a bitter, acerbic asshole. Being a loser would be a nice change of pace.

“I didn’t--I don’t know, Anton. I never knew what I was doing with you.” Karl was moving, crowding him, forcing him to step away from the bar so Karl could herd him away from the others without actually touching him. They abandoned the splintery deck to walk across the sand a ways, enough that the conversations became indistinct and Anton could pretend that the others were just normal people chatting instead of unrehearsed strangers trying to play lifelong friends.

“I’m gonna kick JJ’s ass for putting this off so long,” Karl said. “Everyone’s so fucked up. Simon and John will probably be okay, but Chris, Zach and Zoe are a fucking nightmare.”

Right then, avoidance. Anton could do that. “I can’t tell if having new people is gonna be better, or if everyone’s just gonna go crazy trying to bring them into our non-existent fold."

“Either way they need to cast them fast so we can actually start _working_.” Karl glanced back at the bar and grimaced. “Once we have our characters back we can stop chugging tequila and pretending we all saw _Columbiana_.”

“You’ll do fine.” Anton wouldn’t say it, but he hoped Bones got twice as many scenes this time because Karl was probably the strongest cast member they had at the moment. “I don’t know what the hell they’re gonna do with Chekov, though. They can’t do the whiz kid schtick again and they did fuck all with his crew relationships.”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll have lots of convenient new technical skills,” Karl said. “Chekov spends as much time steering the plot as he does the bloody ship.”

Yeah, Anton definitely couldn’t help himself. “God damn it, Karl, I missed you.”

Karl froze, eyes fixed on the ocean, and Anton wanted to--well, mostly he wanted to yank Karl down into the sand and fuck until they couldn’t move, which actually meant that he was feeling something he’d rather not.

“Fuck it,” Karl said. He turned toward Anton, shoulders square, feet planted at fighting stance. “Let’s get out of here.”

Very tempting, but possibly ill-advised. Anton hedged. “If we tell them we’re sharing a cab someone else’ll try to escape with us.”

“I know; that’s why we’re just gonna walk away.” Karl smirked, suddenly dropping all his depressing guilt to become sarcastic asshole Anton remembered. “Possibly even _boldly go_.”

Anton stared, then took three strides forward to punch his arm.

\---

By the time they got to Anton’s bedroom and out of their shirts, though, they seemed to be losing momentum.

“Wait--Anton--”

Anton finished sucking up a bruise on Karl’s arm, right where he’d punched him. It was bigger and firmer than the last time he’d seen it, which left him torn between miserable self-loathing and wanting to know whether Karl’s skills had improved proportionately. “Shut up, Karl.”

“Anton, really--”

“Just shut up!” He shoved Karl back and was absolutely furious when the larger man barely rocked on his heels. “I thought this was what you wanted! Why can’t you just let it happen?”

“I will!” His hands settled back on Anton’s hips, hesitantly, and Anton stiffened but didn’t try to push him away. “I want to. Let’s just...take it easy, okay?”

God damn it. “We’ve never taken it easy.”

Karl gave him a look. “Yeah, well I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but picking up where we left off hasn’t been working for _anyone_ tonight. I don’t think we’re gonna be able to go back.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing here?” He shifted his weight uneasily, then turned the motion into toeing off his shoes and socks.

“Just.” Karl flexed his hands, running his thumbs over Anton’s hipbones, and to Anton’s surprise a little bit of the tension seemed to bleed off. “Don’t force it, all right?”

It was weird. Karl never used to take the lead; he’d always been happy to let Anton lead him around by the dick. “Shit,” Anton muttered. “Did you become an actual adult during the hiatus?”

Karl chuckled, or rumbled. Hard to tell with him sometimes. “Might have done.” The hands on Anton’s hips flexed again, drawing him closer so Karl could stroke up over his bare back and shoulders and that--that shouldn’t have been enough to make him shudder, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had really touched him anywhere besides his dick and his mouth, outside of a studio, at least. “What about you? Are you mature and well-adjusted now?”

“Yes,” he replied drily. “I’m all about functional relationships and clean living.” Actually he wanted another drink; he’d been trying to pace himself at the bar to avoid having to deal with the cast suddenly getting over protective and wanting to escort him home. They would have been all too happy to unite for the common purpose of being pains in the ass.

Karl’s face softened into a look of concern. Fuck that. He ducked his head to open Karl’s jeans instead. There would be time for horrible stilted conversations about how he was fucking up his life after he got off.

They could start with how he was getting tired of being an angsty little shithead but didn’t know how to be anything else.

Karl’s hips, when he got his jeans down to his thighs, were cut in a really fantastic way and he was wearing incredibly considerate charcoal grey boxer briefs. “Is this evening going just as you planned, or do you always dress like this now?”

Karl had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn’t exactly have a plan, but I had a hope.”

Anton grinned, and Karl cut him off quickly. “And if you quote _Lord of the Rings_ at me, I’ll make you suck my toes before I let you come.”

“Aw, is someone cranky because his character won’t be in _The Hobbit?_ ” He knelt, ostensibly so he could pull off Karl’s shoes, but really so he could get a better look at those briefs and the way they set off Karl’s tan which, interestingly enough, didn’t appear to stop anywhere.

Karl caught his wrists to pull him upright before he could explore any further. “So how do you want to do this?’ he asked, unbuttoning Anton’s jeans in turn. They were too tight to slide down his legs or even off his hips and Karl eventually got frustrated, backing Anton against a wall to palm his crotch on top of the tight material.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Anton breathed. “ _Shit_. Jesus, so much for taking it easy.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Karl braced his free hand on the wall, watching Anton intently. “I can’t get you out of your jeans, so this might have to be it for tonight.”

“Fuck that, you can cut them off me.” He ground his hips up into the rolling pressure, but Karl eased up accordingly so Anton could never get the friction he wanted. He let his head thud back against the wall as his hips rocked futilely. Karl was watching him so intently he wanted to crawl out of his skin and hide, but it was amazing too, having those sharp eyes on him, pinning him in place so Karl could do anything he wanted, absolutely anything, and Anton would just arch up and beg for more.

“God, Karl, I want you to fuck me.”

Karl rewarded him with a squeeze that made his toes curl. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Anton caught him around the neck, pulling him down to press their foreheads together. “Fuck me, yeah.”

The next thing he knew Karl was hauling him up to carry him across the room and dump him on the bed so he could grip his jeans by the cuffs and tug them off. Anton tensed up immediately, then blew out a long breath, relaxing as Karl settled on top of him. Karl, who was a little leaner through the hips, but who still fit between his thighs perfectly. Karl whose elbows still creaked when he braced himself on them. Karl who kissed him like no one else kissed him, heavy but not overpowering, not proving anything, just kissing him, lips full and soft, tongue tasting of whiskey and lime.

Karl who had left their underwear on and was grinding against him so slowly he was going to lose his mind, but it was kind of okay, too.

“You’re exactly the same,” Karl murmured. He ran his hand down Anton’s side to hike up his thigh and back again, lingering on his knobby knee, his jutting hip.

“You’re different.” They’d both aged, but Karl was the one who had actually grown. It was kind of encouraging. “Man I hope there’s a nubile seventeen-year-old around to coach me through _my_ mid-life crisis.”

That got him a bite, high on his neck where it would definitely show. Anton had no intention of trying to hide it. “Still keep lube in the same place,” he added.

“I figured.” Karl stretched to fish it out of the bedside table, then simply dropped it within easy reach. He’d also grabbed a strip of condoms, which panged a little. “But all things in due time.”

He started on Anton’s neck again, revisiting the bite to suck up a darker bruise, while his hands bracketed Anton’s chest. Pressing his thumbs into his lowest ribs, he followed their twinned arch down his abdomen to his hip bones and the seams of his briefs, following the stitches that ran over and around his cock until he was writhing.

“Take them off,” he groaned. “Come on, Karl, _please_.”

Karl complied, drawing them down his legs, and it was like he’d unclipped a leash; Anton surged forward and seized him for a graceless kiss. Karl tried to slow him down, but then Anton palmed his crotch, rubbing over the boxer briefs he still wore. He wanted everything, all at once, on top, underneath, sitting, standing, Karl’s hands on every inch of his skin, Karl’s hands tied down and straining, his mouth, his fucking perfect cock. He wanted hand jobs in the men’s room while the rest of the cast ordered appetizers without them, and quick and dirty fucks 33,000 feet up in international airspace. He clawed Karl’s briefs down, then decided he liked the way they looked cutting into the meat of his thighs and left them there so he could push Karl back and swallow him down, relearning every branching blood vessel under his tongue.

“Fuck!” Karl bucked his hips, hitting the back of Anton’s throat, and Anton froze because _yes_. Groping, he sought one of Karl’s hands to place it on the back of his head and just wait, wait, wait, for Karl to catch on.

When he did, he groaned, letting his head fall back into the bedding even as his hips rose again, fucking up into Anton’s mouth, and if Anton whimpered a little that was his secret. His fingers curled in the bunched up material of Karl’s briefs, pulling them even tighter as his eyes clenched shut, trying to lose himself in the taste and feel of Karl’s foreskin slipping back and forth under his lips, but the weird thing was, having a cock in your mouth gave you time to think. Anton didn’t want to think, not about the girls who’d sucked him off, not about the guys who’d looked him over but whom he hadn’t approached. They didn’t matter. He wanted Karl to fuck him until that was true.

He pulled off and wriggled his fingers free, snapping the elastic against Karl’s thighs. “Come on, you big Kiwi bastard,” he spat, voice raw. “Fuck me.”

Karl drew him up his chest and kissed him, sloppy and bitter with spit and precome, then rolled him over on his back. He landed on the lube, which was convenient; he could press it into Karl’s hand without breaking the kiss.

Karl was shifting, grabbing pillows and working his own briefs down his legs, all while alternating between sucking on Anton’s tongue and lower lip. He finally pulled away long enough to urge Anton over onto his belly, hips canted up on pillows, with another to go under his chest and head. He waited for the snap of the lube opening, then jumped when he got Karl’s tongue slick and hot over his hole instead. Fuck, it had been so long, and this was killing him, instantly, the hungry wet press of it, and the way Karl’s hands dug into his ass and hips, pulling him up, opening him wider, laying him absolutely bare so Karl could lick him in maddening preamble.

“Tight,” Karl groaned, adding the slightest scrape of teeth to make Anton yelp and bury his face in the pillow. He stroked up over Anton’s back, pressing hard along the knobs of his spine then back down the muscles on either side. “ _Relax_.”

“ _Can’t_.” Karl kept rubbing his back, finding every knotted muscle while his tongue flicked him open, leaving Anton’s body poised between melting comfort and the screaming tension of needing the pleasure to build and build until he came.

The two impulses finally clicked when Karl pressed a finger into him, stretching him just enough to push him into bonelessness. Karl hummed his approval and worked the finger steadily, giving him another when he squirmed for it.

“Maybe just this tonight, hmm?” Karl murmured. He curved his fingers, stroking him emphatically like there could be any mistake about what he meant. “Love watching you come.”

Anton did his best to think; he knew an out when he heard one. He could come like this, easily, cock rubbing into the pillows while Karl’s perfect fingers pushed him closer to the edge. He could suck Karl off after, or just let him rub off on him, leave him smeared and messy the way they both liked.

It was always nice to have options, but. “Think we’ve both waited long enough.” He shifted his knees wider and got himself properly braced. “Want you to fuck me, Karl.”

Karl ripped open a condom in wordless agreement, and Anton looked forward to dispensing with them soon. He craned around to watch Karl slick himself, both of his big hands swirling over his big cock in a smug little show before they gripped the pillow under Anton’s hips and used it to pull him back to meet the first thrust.

It hurt, like it always did, radiating through him like nothing else could. He arched with it, tensing just to feel the way Karl halted immediately, holding rock steady until Anton relaxed again. He stroked up over Anton’s back, covering him with lube and pressing until he was having trouble breathing but it was all so _good_ , perfect pain, perfect weight, leaving him hazy but also awake in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time.

“Fuck me,” he urged again, rocking his hips back. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--”

“ _Yes_ ,” Karl hissed, hips rolling in a little twist that favored his left and set Anton twining in counterpoint. He doubled forward to lace their fingers, fitting over Anton perfectly.

They stayed like that, fucking sensuously until the pressure was too much and Anton tossed Karl over onto his back, straddling him quickly so he could ride him, harder and faster than Karl would fuck him because he could take it, because he wanted it, because Karl wanted it and he could give it to him. Karl caught his dick with a groan, making a loose fist around it so Anton could fuck his hand while he fucked himself on his cock, letting the bucking seesaw shove his orgasm out of him to leave Karl’s tanned belly spattered with white.

He kept rocking, hard as he could stand as the oversensitivity rubbed him raw. “Come on, Karl,” he urged. “Want you to come. Want you to come in my mouth too, later.” He bent forward and licked a long stripe up Karl’s chest to the hollow of his throat. “Bet you can still fuck me twice in one night.”

“Jesus, Anton!” Karl grabbed him by the hips, holding him down so he could fuck up into him, hard, throwing his head back to groan out his orgasm, loud and shameless while Anton went a little crazy. There might have been biting. There was definitely bruising.

Finally, he had to throw himself to the side and just _breathe_ , savoring the smell of sex on the air. This was good. This was right.

This was worth the wait.

They lay there, panting, until Karl punched the air and crowed. “Still got it!”

Anton summoned all his energy, and hit him.


End file.
